


Ragehappy Oneshots

by somebodytoldme



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Drabbles, Fluff, M/M, Song fics, Stuff, oneshots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-13
Updated: 2013-07-09
Packaged: 2017-12-11 19:22:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/802286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somebodytoldme/pseuds/somebodytoldme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of oneshots, filled prompts, or drabbles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. No Hands

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Gavin and Michael holding hands for the first time.

Michael doesn’t pet names, kiss-y faces, and he definitely doesn’t hold hands. It is just a fact. A fact that began when he had to watch disgusting couples caught up in each other, calling each other pook-ey bear and cupcakes… He swore when he was younger, watching a chick pouting up at her boyfriend, and him indulging her with puppy eyes- that he would not become them. He would never think a fart by a “special” person to be cute. Shit is fucking shit, and it ain’t cute. 

And Michael thought they he could skip this whole understanding. After all, here he was at a den of guys who played video games… He doubted there would be much of that shit here.

How wrong he was.

“My little Michael, where did you go?” cries the voice to his right. He shakes his head, trying to focus on finding the last slip of paper without being murdered. But, the Brit doesn’t take the cue, and he persists. “Where are you, love? I’m miss you, you’re my boy, Michael?” 

“GAVIN- I am in the same fucking place I’ve been for the last twenty minutes, you are the one who went running off on your own!” He sighs when he completely ignores what he just says, and continues calling his name into the mic.

Soon after he hears Gavin crying out, and just like that, he is the lone survivor. And he is trampling through the goddamn woods in an endless circle, like a sitting duck for the werewolf prick, fucker… 

He clutches his knee, leaning forward toward the screen as he tries to find where the hell he is. And it while he is emerging from the woods, that he fells a warm hand slide over his own. Gavin is leaning over, face completely engrossed in Michael’s screen and when he notices Michael’s face he teases his hand underneath his own. “For luck,” he says merrily. 

Now Michael cannot focus, not when Gavin holding his hand… It is so fucking girly, but at the same time he kind of likes it. Then the thought occurs to him, that maybe, maybe, it really isn’t so bad. Maybe it is just about feeling that somebody is there.

“Oh, OHH, MICHAEL! HE’S THERE HE’S THERE!” 

Michael turns back to his screen and it is red with the words YOU DIED flashing on the screen. He rips his hand away, smashing the table with his freed hand. “GAVIN! YOU FUCKING IDIOT!”


	2. You Are The Best Thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gavin is a bartender who falls for business man with a short temper and tattoos.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Mavin fic with Michael in the Mafia?

Gavin doesn’t think he has ever seen anybody like him before. And he has met a lot of people in his business (being a bartender). He doesn’t know how to describe him. He is enigma. The way he radiates charisma… He feels dangerous, but his laugh is so full it fills the room as he enters. Gavin would have compared him to a rose, in order to woo him with sweet words. Yet, he sees he is more devious.

Luckily, he doesn’t have to. Because the guy comes up to him and orders a drink. He is too dumbfounded to really say a word, but carefully measure the drink before passing it to him.

The guy rises it to his lips, tastes, makes a pleased noise before leaving. Gavin feels slightly heartbroken for being such a bimp… Why couldn’t he say anything? He felt paralyzed All week he agonizes over it, that is until he sees him again the next week.

This time Gavin takes full advantage, he learns the guy’s name is Michael, and it is a good name. It suits him.

The next time Gavin learns that Michael doesn’t like his job. He won’t say what it is, just that he doesn’t like it.

Next, he learns that Michael has several tattoos and a short temper.

Then, he finds himself answering more questions from Michael than asking. It is refreshing to have somebody who actually is interested. He tells him about how he came here from England to get a job in film and editing. How he was forced to part-time bar tend as he had not found a permanent job. 

Michael offers to buy him a drink sometime. Gavin feels warm at the thought.

He doesn’t see Michael for the next two weeks. He begins to think that he isn’t coming back. That his interest in Gavin was only to waste the time, that his wife or lover probably finally got back. 

But Michael does come back, and he is worn looking. He drinks more that night. When Gavin asks, he says he had a business trip, and it was a tough one. He doesn’t inquire any more than that.

The next week is better. Michael stays until closing time, and they share a drink. It is a great time. Gavin can’t help, but notice the way Michael leans toward him, or touches the back of his hand when he tells a story. And he knows, in the back of his mind, that he is drawing all the attention of a sweet little devil to him. All the same, he can’t find it in himself to actually care… Then, he never had much self preservation or common sense for that matter.

The next week Michael leaves on another business trip.

Three weeks pass without any word or sign. Until one night, Gavin’s taking out the trash and he hears a groan. He looks over, and there is a guy looking pretty beat upon. The closer he edges, he knows this person and dread crawls up, ugly, in his chest. 

“Hey, Gav,” Michael mutters, looking up at him with his one good eye, his lip split and blood… Oh god.

“Michael…” Gavin sighs because it feels like the wind has been knocked out of him. Something in him, however, is really not shocked. So, he is quick to compose himself and reach for his friend. “You look a wreck.”

A wet laugh is painfully coughed from Michael, “you could say that.”

—-

“I suppose… I should tell you,” Michael says from the Gavin’s couch as the Brit hands him a damp cloth to clean up. “I am not a business… guy.”

Gavin smiles, holding his own cloth and wiping the blood from his chin, “I know.”

Michael nodded in agreement, “I suppose you’d be an idiot to believe that. But… You are an idiot for taking me back to your apartment. What if I am a bad guy?”

“I don’t believe you are.”

“You’d be wrong,” Michael sighs, and pushes the cloth away. He leans back to dig something out, and with it he reveals a gun. 

It’s a real gun. Michael slaps it down into the open palm of Gavin’s hand, the metal is cold and the gun is heavy. It weighs heavier in his mind, when he thinks about what this gun has been used for. What his Michael uses it for. Wait… his Michael?

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” Gavin didn’t even notice it, not until Michael gripped his hands to stop them trembling form holding the gun. “Gavin, I’m not going to use it… I’d never… Never hurt you. Please, Gav, look at me. Please.”

And with Michael pleading, he can’t help but look into those honest eyes. But his bruised face is just another painful reminder… “What. What are you?” he breaths because he needs to know. Michael can’t be bad, he isn’t a bad person.

Michael swallows heavily in response. “Gavin, I-“

“No more lies.”

It’s now the other who is avoiding his eye, he takes the gun from his hand, and sets it down on the cushion. He doesn’t free Gavin’s hands though, instead he rubs insistent circles in his palms, as if will relax him. It doesn’t.

“I’m… I’ve gotten into some bad business, Gav. But,” he looks up, hopeful, “I’ve been try to get out— I’ve been trying my damnest to leave that behind. Because I don’t want to be this person anymore. I want to live a good life. I want a plain life. I want one with you… Gavin, you are the best damn thing to ever happen to me.”

Gavin is a bimp, no, a dumb ass with little self preservation, and that is why he leans over and kisses Michael softly. Michael winces from his split lip at first, but that doesn’t stop him from quickly turning the kiss into something half desperate half sweet. Gavin feels Michael locking his fingers through his hair.

And when they part, Michael just presses his forehead against Gavin’s, the dried blood feeling tacky against his skin. He doesn’t care though. Not even the metallic taste on his own lips can bother him. Not when Michael holding him so close, so afraid, and whispering his name like a prayer.

And who said an angel and devil can’t tango?


	3. Only You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They were like oil and water, like fire and ice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Song fic to Only You by Ellie Goulding.

Michael really didn’t know how it started. Everything has become so frayed to his memory, and so fucked up, that it doesn’t really matter how it started. 

But for the point of a continuous, chronological story, he’ll attempt for some clarity.

—-

It started when Gavin joined the Achievement Hunters, officially. And from the moment they met, there was this sort of tension. They rubbed each other wrong, Gavin was impatient and Michael was irritable. Together they were like oil and water, fire and ice.

Then one particularly bad day, Gavin is banging on his desk, climbing on his chair to yell at his frozen screen, when Michael’s had enough. 

It was just happenstance that he said, “oh, blow me, Gavin.” A response to which everybody chuckled at.

—-

The first time that Gavin went down on him, they were very drunk. Michael knew it wasn’t much of an excuse, but that was the best he got. All he could really remember was the feeling of slight hesitation as Gavin ripped into his jeans… A fight that quickly disappeared.

—-

The second time happens a few months later. Those months in-between filled with more tension and strict, polite denial of whatever happened between them was a drunken mistake.

It’s a late night at the office, and everybody has left or gone out, and Michael is there late finishing an recording for tomorrow. And he is a little irritable because he has been dealing with so many technical issues just to get some footage for the fucking video.. And at this point, he is almost ready to trash the entire project, fuck it, right?

Around this time, Gavin comes sauntering in to watch Michael whip his controller across the room as the game freezes for the thousandth time that day. “MOTHERFUCKER, PIECE OF SHIT,” and he truly fights the urge to just completely take a crowbar to his entire desk because what-the-fuck.

Gavin clears his little annoying throat, and Michael turns fuming toward him, completely ready to shred him for just being… well, for being there. But before he can, Gavin asks, “problem?”

“Problem?” he mimics the dumbass British tone of this stupid fucker because yes… OBVIOUSLY, there was a problem. “No, shit there is a problem, Sherlock.”

“Want me to take a look?”

And as if this idiot could fix anything… But, the hell with it, Michael slides back in his chair, spreading his arms out in welcome, “what the hell, be my guest.”

Next thing he knows Gavin is under his desk, looking through all the cords with a quizzical look on his face. And Michael is getting flashbacks of a similar situation they were in a few months ago.

Gavin looks up chewing on his lower lip in thought, and for fucks sake they have a moment. It’s not a romantic, oh cute, moment. It is more like, I’m kind of horny, moment.

Gav’s hand is touching his knee, and when Michael has no words to protest, he becomes more adventurous, sliding up to feel him. 

Michael doesn’t protest. Not when his buckle comes undone, or his pants are pulled to his ankles.

He even lets his hand yank on that delicious soft hair, and bites his lip to hold back the noises that Gavin doesn’t. Gavin just takes it all on his knees, making soft noises while watching Michael come completely undone.

—-

After that, there is no real denying it. It is like wildfire, and it quickly spreads from containment. Anytime they are alone, which isn’t hardly often enough, they do this thing. Most of it the time it is just touching, touching through clothes until the jizz in their pants like teenagers.

But sometimes, the best times, Gavin will crawl down on his knees, stroke his inner thighs and get him off with his mouth.

Michael, himself, can’t really bring himself to it… Yet. But sometimes he’ll jack him to completion, feeling empowered as the Brit falls apart under his hands vocally asking for more and where.

—-

One day, however, Michael realizes that this has become a real problem. The whole crew went out to get bevs, and he watched as Gavin excused himself to the restroom giving Michael a cat call look. And he can’t resist.

And Gavin blows him so hard it almost hurts coming, but it is the best orgasm he’s had in while. He even helps the Brit while some… well, off his cheesy grinning face. And they go back, Ray, whispering to him that he looks like the cat that got the cream. But whatever.

The worst is following month. That month Gavin goes back to England to visit the family. And Michael gets the worst case of blue balls in his life. The worst bit being, that whenever he goes to take care of the problem, he realizes that he can only think of a certain British idiot… Which is totally not okay, there is no way he is getting off a fucking moron who he hates by the way.

So, he decides that this really has to end. Now. It is time that he went out and got himself a girl. And Gavin gets back he is already going on his third date with the chick. He tries to ignore the crestfallen look on his face at the news.

—-

This around the office after that are fucking miserable. Michael should of known better than to piss around with Gavin… Because Gavin just might be an evil mastermind, or has the maturity of a five year old.

It starts out with tight tee shirts, slightly more fit jeans. The way the brings in lollipops to suck on. The time he brought in a fucking popstical, and Michael really has had enough.

—-

They are at a party and Gavin is very drunk. He catches Michael off guard, and presses Michael into the wall and and kisses him like a starving man.

He punches him and leaves.

—-

He doesn’t see Gavin around the office the next day. Or the one after that. He asks Geoff, and apparently the guy caught a break and is working on the set of some film. 

Michael shoulders his guilt.

—-

The next time he sees Gavin is two months later. It is late into the night, and he is just trying to fall asleep, listening to the tap of the rain on his window pane.

There is a knock at the door, and when he shuffles lazily to the door, it is Gavin he sees standing there soaked and tired. He instantly grabs his cold, clammy arm, and yanks him inside. And if he isn’t a pathetic sight. His face is gruff with facial hair, and his clothes are stuck to his frame.

“What the fuck, man, did you walk here or something?” he asks gruffly to which Gavin nods.

—-

One hot shower, borrowed clothes, and a pot of coffee later, Gavin is settled into his couch. He looks a lot better, but there is still something off. But, then, Michael remembers their last encounter so he can put two and two together.

“Look-” he begins, but he is interrupted by Gavin clambering down from the couch to the floor.

He’s on him immediately, hardly apologetic as he reaches for the tie on his sweats, situating himself between Michael’s thighs.

Michael is having none of it, instead he cuffs Gavin’s wrists. “What do you think you’re doing?” he asks, swiftly losing his patience with this mess.

The idiot trembles in defeat, or maybe exhaustion, or maybe simply form getting completely soaked like a moron. But either way he does, and Michael quickly lets him go, thinking he wouldn’t try twice in row. He’s wrong. This time, however, Gavin looks into his eyes as he unties.

“Please, Michael, please,” he whispers. And fuck, it has gone too far. “I.. Please, I need you. I love you.” His hands yank down his sweats as if they have personally offended him. “I… I tried with… but I can’t. It’s only been you, this whole time, I’ve just needed you. And then I did… And you found somebody else…”

Michael decides to put a swift end to this. He once again grasps Gavin’s hands, firm but gentle. “Good,” he sighs, watching the idiot’s face flicker with confusion. 

He laughs uneasily, “because I was really worried that… It was only me. Feeling that way, I mean.” He wipes the escaping tears that now flood his love’s face.

“What… what about?”

“We broke up two months ago,” Michael answers, reading his mind. To which, Gavin really has nothing else to say. But his face breaks into a relieved smile, like a storm parting for the sun. And it would be perfect if only the rain would stop. But Michael suspects he could kiss them away.

“Come up off your knees, baby.”

And Gavin does.


	4. Tattletale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Growing up can be pretty hard, especially when you are known as a tattletale.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fourth Grade AU

“You’re an idiot.”

“…sorry, what?” 

Michael crosses his arms, looking down at the sniveling mess before him. “I said, you’re an idiot.”

The annoying tears seem to dry on the boy’s face, and he wipes the snot on from his big nose on the back of his sleeve. “What do you mean?”

He rolls his eyes, mocking the kids weird accent, “wot do I mean? I mean, you are an idiot because you told on Tommy.”

“But… but he skipped me in line.”

“Tommy is a fifth grader, he’s allowed. We’re down on the food chain, we ain’t got any say.”

“But-“

“Listen, I’m taking pity on you now, cause you got that accent, and that makes you target enough… But you don’t wanna be known as a tattletale, believe me.”

“So, I should just let him skip me whenever?”

“Yeah!”

The kid gives him a skeptical look, but at least it is better than that sulk he’s been wearing all day. Either way, he is a pretty quick learner, which Michael can appreciate. 

“Thanks for the tip, I guess. My name is Gavin.”

“Yeah, I know… We’re in the same class,” Michael adds feeling a little meek. Even so, he knows what it is like to move schools, so he offers the kid his hand. “Michael.”

Gavin smiles, a smile that is so dorky, just like his big ears and nose. “Michael… do you like video games?”

—-

“Damnit!” Michael threw the controller as the boss killed him yet again, damnit.

To which the Brit at his side protested, “Michael! You said a bad word!”

“It is a piece of crap! Stupid, stupid game.” He crosses his arms, glancing over at Gavin’s horrified face, as if he had never heard a swear before. 

Interesting.

“Gav, you have said a bad word before, right?”

The kid crosses his arms, so no then.

“Mum says it is not gentlemen-like to swear.”

Michael leaned over, bumping shoulders with the idiot so he could whisper profanity into his left ear. “Ass…hole.”

Gavin turns away, shoving at him, “stop it!”

“Shit!”

“Michael!”

“F-“

“No!”

“Farts.”

Gav’s nose scrunches up in disgust, “I hate you.”

He grins. Sitting up to pin the smaller boy, and taking advantage of his ticklish spots.

“Ah, oh no… stop, please. Mercy.”

“Come on, Gavin… Come on, farts,” he is merciless in the assault, leaving Gav with no chance of escape.

“Michael! Stop! You…. you… arse.”

He freezes. “Did you just… say a bad word? I’m telling!”

Gavin shoves him off, face beet red, “shut up.”

And if it isn’t the funniest thing that Michael has ever won. He laughs for until his stomach hurts.

And then Gavin pushes him over and takes vengeance.

—-

“Don’t worry about it,” Gavin says, nursing the cast on his left arm.

“Come on, you didn’t fall off your bike,” Michael argues, pausing the game so he can meet Gavin’s eye. “Even your mom doesn’t believe that story.”

“I said don’t worry about it,” comes the snapping reply.

Michael is losing patience. “Look, dude, I didn’t say anything about the bruises or scrapes, but you broke your arm. You gotta tell me what’s going on,” he pleads.

“Nothing is going on…”

He throws the controller, “bullcrap!”

Gavin flinches, which instantly settles wrong in Michael’s stomach. Even so, the kid sets his shoulders straight and stands up. “I’m no tattletale,” the idiot says and he leaves Michael’s room.”

What an idiot. Michael sees red.

—-

“Michael Jones.”

“That’s me,” he adds helpfully, to which he gets a look from the old man with round glasses. 

“We’ve called your mother, she should be here shortly.”

He groans. Great, that is just what he needed. 

“In the mean time, do you care to explain to me why you got into a fist fight with Thomas.”

Michael crosses his arms, not for a moment regretting his actions. “Tommy, yeah. I fought him, but only because he has been picking on my best friend.”

The principal clasps his hands together on the desk, looking very serious. “Who is that?”

“His name is Gavin Free. And Tommy has been picking on him for a while… He even pushed Gavin off his bike, and broke his arm.”

The man frowns, and a matching frown wrinkles into the old man’s forehead. “Are you sure of this?”

He leans forward. “Sir, he broke his arm. And today I saw him cornering Gav. And I guess I lost it.”

Yeah, he lost it alright. The only thing he saw was red, again. He always had been a little temperamental, but he’s never lost it like he did. He remembers coming too his knuckles bruised, and Gavin pulling him back with his one good arm. Sobbing, of course, the idiot.

“I see…” The old man suddenly looks very old. He takes off his glasses and rubs his face. 

He looks down at his throbbing, swollen hand. “Am I in trouble?”

He glances up to see the old man giving a faint smile, “well, a little, yes…”

His shoulders slump. But somehow, at the same time, it feels like he won.

—-

When the cast comes off the two of them decide to celebrate properly with icecream sundaes. They make two big bowls with a gazillion toppings, and eat so much their stomachs hurt.

It seems everything is resolved with the little bully in their lives. Tommy has been suspended from school. Gavin is fully healed. And Michael has gotten the reputation of both a tattletale and a hothead. Great.

But it doesn’t really matter because Gavin is known as a ditsy tattletale. Which is worse.

Either way, he is just glad everything is well again, and so is Gavin.

“I think we should form a club,” Gav suggests out of the blue.

Michael snorts. “Yeah, what, the tell tales group?”

Gavin huffs. “No! I mean, like, a video game club.”

He smiles, considering the idea. “Yeah, actually, that’d be pretty sweet. After all, you really suck at shooting games, I could use an actual challenge.”

“Hey!” Gavin shoves him.

But the more he thinks about it, the more he likes the idea. “But, seriously, let’s do it.”

“Okay.”

They play for a few more minutes in silence.

“Michael?”

“Yah?”

“Thanks for telling.”

“Of course.”

Silence.

“Gav?”

“Mrmm?” 

“Let’s keep Thursdays our game night, though.”

He smiles, “yeah, I’d like that.”

—-

The awesome video game group grows rapidly. As it turns out, a lot of kids actually like video games. So, pretty soon their duo is turning into a mod of guys. And pretty soon they don’t only play video games. They also go to birthday parties, build forts and all that crazy stuff.

There is Ray, Ryan, Jack, Geoff…. and the list goes on. Even a few girls hang around once and a while, just as long as they keep their cooties to themselves.

But Thursdays remain Gavin and Michael’s day. Nice Team Dynamite! 

They tell nobody else.

—-

Friendship is a simple thing when you are younger, and it blossoms easily enough.

But Gavin and Michael’s friendship, well, it seemed to be a lot more than superficial pacts made for a short period of time. Wherein most would grow out of each other, it seemed they grew into each other.

Even as they grew up, and the amount of friends they had grew as well… They always had each other.

As they entered high school they were together still.

They knew every single embarrassing moment of growing up between each other. And they never told.

—-

Sometimes friendship blossoms into something else.

Sometimes you realize that you’ve been in love with your best friend since the moment you saw him crying, all snot nosed. Maybe that is why you first approached him, love at first sight.

Sometimes life is about chances. One you take as you lean over and you peck him on the lips.

You watch him turn bright red. Your heart shudders as he smiles brightly at you. “Don’t tell… but I’ve been waiting for you to do that for… a long time.”

And you feel ready to bust. Bursting with joy, that your own smile is shaky at best. “Oh… I am telling.”

“Tattletale,” he teases and kisses your lips.


	5. Storms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Gavin tries to find out what Micheal is afraid of by trying to scare him, but nothing works, and then he finds out accidentally that it's thunder when a storm rolls in. And wrap it all up in hugs, cuddles, and kisses.

It started earlier that week when Michael decided it would be fun to play a little prank on Gavin. Knowing that the Brit had an  _extreme_  distaste for a certain eight-legged  _crawler_ , Michael thought it would be funny to place a rubber one on a fishing pole. And since Gavin is really focused and serious about editing, he didn’t notice this until it was too late. Until there was a little  _monster_  placed down on his left shoulder. And, well, he nearly  _shat_ himself to put it lightly.

—-

Therefore, vengeance was coming to town.

Two days he spent plotting, trying to scare Michael. But being Mogar, apparently he was also equipped with balls of steel.  _Nothing_  he did scared or shocked Michael.

He was frustrated. He sat in his chair, brooding, as to if Michael was actually human. Ray patted his shoulder, “still trying to figure out how to scare Michael?”

He glowered, “ _yes,_ and I  _swear_  I’m going to find it before the week is out… Not  _even_  to prank anymore, just… to know  _what the hell_  he is afraid of.”

Ray plops down into his chair with a shrug.

“Maybe he isn’t scared of anything, maybe he really is Mogar,” calls Geoff from the corner.

“Geoff,  _everyone_  is scared of  _something._ ”

“Yeah, just like I’m scared of the Po Po,” calls Ray as he slips on his headphones.

Jack comes in, “okay, so there is a severe thunderstorm warning, so we may be leaving early guys…”

There is a chorus of “alright” before they return to work. Gavin, trying to figure out something before Michael comes back from lunch.

—-

As fate would have it, Gavin didn’t have to do anything but wait. Because later that day, as the clouds over head began to darken over of the Rooster Teeth building Michael began to look more and more apprehensive. 

And then the rain started, followed shortly by thunder. Burnie came in to dismiss them, as the storm was rapidly approaching. Everyone was making their way out the front door, Gavin following suit with Geoff when he noticed Michael frozen in the door way. “I’ll catch up to you later,” he called after Geoff. 

It isn’t until he rounds around to Michael’s side that he notices he is _shivering._  “You alright, cold?” he asks watching wrapping an arm around his shoulder.

But Michael doesn’t respond, he is too entranced with watching the rain come down. And it isn’t until he  _flinches_  at the lightning that cracks down just outside that Gavin realizes… He’s  _afraid._  

“…Michael? Are you… are you afraid of  _thunderstorms?”_  

Michael  _glowers_ at him, but as the thunder rumbles he instantly loses any trace of anger, moving closer to Gavin’s proximity.

“Really?  _Really?_ Out of  _all_  the things… Clowns, spiders, bats, snakes… you’re afraid of a  _storm?”_ He asks incredulously, not believing that Mogar is afraid of a little storm.

But lightning strikes outside the glass doors, and burrows his face into his shoulder. “Shut the fuck up, you  _prick.”_

And even though Gavin is astonished and would like to laugh about how stupid and obvious this is… He can’t ignore Michael’s death grip on his shirt, or the fact that he is trembling in his arms.

So, he does what a good boyfriend would do, he holds him. He wraps his arms around him, pulling him in close. He presses a kiss to the top of his head, “okay. We’ll wait out the storm, together.”

That is how they end up on company couch, Michael wrapped up arms. They wait, and listen to the thunder outside. And when it is particularly bad, Gavin distract him with a kiss. He’ll cover his boyfriend’s ears with his hands and pecks his face with kisses. It is when Michael’s nose scrunches up with annoyance that he knows he is winning, and he kisses those wrinkles too.

It lasts about an hour, and the storm ends as suddenly as it started. A rainbow appearing just outside with the breaking of the sun. They step outside, hand in hand to enjoy the sight.

Gavin breaks from ‘caring boyfriend’ with a smirk. “Thunderstorms?”

Michael sighs. “Shut up.”


	6. Bad day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: fem!gavin on her period and she has major cramps that hurt like a bitch and michael finds her editing and she looks like shes about to cry so he comes up behind her and and and cuddles everywhere

The Achievement Hunters were a predominately male team. It wasn’t because they discriminated against females, but it just happened that way. Getting into the Achievement Hunters wasn’t easy. Normally it happened when they noticed and appreciated the quality of work you produce. It also helped if you kissed some ass or knew somebody within the company.

Giovanna Free knew, from a young age of watching Rooster Teeth productions, that she wanted to be a part of that. And it took  _a lot_  of work to get where she is today- sitting here doing what she dreamed about. She scaled so many walls, but as it turned out, they could respected her editing skills (even though she was the worst at video games on the team). 

Named Giovanna because of her  _very_  Italian grandparents, she often went by Gia although the team also liked to call her Gav. She didn’t really feel uncomfortable being surrounded by a bunch of guys, in fact she found it pretty relaxing… She had a brother and sister, but she and her brother often bonded more over video games while her sister found more interest in other things.

It wasn’t that she was unfeminine, because liking video games  _is_ a thing that girls do. Who can’t respect those graphics and some  _top_ quality storytelling? The only problem that she ever encountered in the office, about her sex, was that men don’t understand what it is to be a woman.

Yeah, sure, getting punched in the balls hurt. But getting your period? Ha, try a week of hell. Bloating, cramps, an aching back, and a splitting headache. No, they just don’t understand it.

Today is a particularly bad day. So bad, that Gia even took some Midol before leaving the house, and she hates swallowing pills more than anything. And even worse she has to finish editing a four hour Let’s Play before tomorrow because she had fallen behind. It was not a good day.

Pressing a warm water bottle into her stomach she groaned, trimming the edges of clip so that he camera could balance between Ray’s sneak attack on an unsuspecting Ryan. It is in the midst of sipping deeply on her Red Bull that the computer decides to make this day infinitely  _worse._  It freezes up, completely blocking any progress that she had made in the past  _hour_ of editing. 

Fuck. She pounded on the desk in frustration. Frustration at herself for not saving her progress, and just this bloody  _awful_  day in general. It feels like somebody is tearing apart her insides slowly, and now she will have a late day as well. She fumes in frustration, and because her body is pumped on bloody  _hormones_  she feels her eyes prickle with fresh tears. This is  _not_  what she wants to do. Not _now_.

But hands settle on her shoulders, warm and comforting, and they knead into her aching bones. “Hey, there what’s wrong with my girl?”

 _Michael._  She sags with relief. Finding some comfort in her boyfriend’s welcoming touch. Even so, the bloody tears still are betraying her. “Nothing,” she mutters as she closes out of the program, and goes to restart it,  _praying_  autosave kept some of her progress.

The hands are firmer on her sore muscles, soothing the ache which she can’t help but lean into. “Doesn’t seem like nothing,” he says easily, “forgot to save again?”

She bites her lip and nods, not trusting herself to her voice at the moment.

Michael takes in her silence and the comforting massage ends. She sighs in repose, but Michael is already spinning her chair around to confront him.

He pauses for one thoughtful moment, before leaning down to kiss her gently on the lips. “I love you,” he whispers once they part, pressing his forehead to her own, hands gripping the armrests to hold her in.

And stupid, stupid tears betray her. She  _hates_  being like this. But she feels so shitty and her boyfriend is so sweet. “I.. I know that,” she says moving to wipe away the tears before they are noticed.

Michael beats her too it, taking them away with the palm of his hand. It strokes her cheek, lovingly cupping her jaw so he can tilt it up for a sweet, darling kiss. It lasts a second before he pulls away. With that soft, serious expression he asks, “then what’s wrong?”

“I just… Not feeling well today,” she murmurs. “But I have to get this video done… After all, I am behind and-“

But she doesn’t get to say anymore because Michael dips down and scoops her into his arms. Not expecting it, she yelps and grabs onto his shirt collar. He isn’t bothered though. Not one bit, not even as he carries out of the office, bridal style, toward his car. There, he places her in the car and starts the engine without a word.

She is in shock. So much that she is silent the entire ride, even as they end up outside Michael’s apartment. Even as he opens the passenger’s door and carries her up inside. He tucks her into bed, tuning the television onto one of her favorite shows, Game of Thrones.

Bundled up in her boyfriend’s arms, she seems to find her voice after sometime. “What about-?”

“I’ll talk to Geoff about it.”

And suddenly it she feels a lot better. Knowing that some of the pressure is off her shoulders, lifted  _literally_ by her boyfriend. Maybe, she doesn’t give him enough credit. Maybe she is the luckiest girl in the whole world. She curls closer into his warm chest, finding it comforting to her aching bones.


	7. Three Times Gavin Screwed Up and The Time He Didn't

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gavin is a prick who screws shit up, but not when it really matters.

“Gavin,” Michael releases a short breath, trying his very best not to completely lose his shit. “Did you seriously forget to press the record button for this past hour?”

And the fucking prick looks sheepishly and giggles. Fucking giggles. That’s the last straw.

“GAVIN, WHAT THE FUCK, HOW COULD YOU FORGET TO FUCKING PRESS THE BUTTON!”

One hour. One shitting hour he has lost sitting about playing this shitty ass game with this prick, trying to be entertaining, and it is lost. Completely wasted.

Gavin is doubled over, laughing. Michael is going to murder him and bury his body where it will never be found.

—-

He taps the wheel impatiently, dialing the number again. Voicemail, again.

“Gavin, pick up your fucking phone you British prick!”

He hits end and stares out at the dark windows. Geoff and Griffon went on vacation, leaving Gavin at the house by himself. And Michael, being the chump he was, offered to give him a ride to work. So, here he was waiting and calling the ass who was literally, probably, over sleeping.

He dials again.

Up it picks, lazy reply confirming his suspicions. “Michael? What are you calling for?”

He looks down at the clock on the radio. Already late. He sighs.

—-

“Gavin. Please stop, let’s just go. Don’t waste the money.”

He doesn’t know how they ended up in this situation, except by pure fucking luck that they were likely to lose.

They were playing roulette, each putting two hundred into a pot so they could gamble enough but split the amount left. Somehow, Gavin had tripled their money in the past hour, and he was giddy on success.

Michael thought it best to take the money and go, but Gavin insisted he was lucky for one more round. He piles up all their spoils and puts it on red. Michael is shitting his pants as the little ball spins around the wheel. He prays, and prays, for red.

Black.

Fucker.

—-

“Michael?” Gavin asks looking apphrensive at a very drunk Michael standing at his door.

He laughs at the Brit’s frowning eyebrows that are seriously mimicking his stupid lips. “Dude, look at your silly ass mug.”

The wheels seem to be turning in Gavin’s head, and after a few seconds he seems to be determined on decision. “Come inside, just be quiet because the others are asleep.”

And then Michael is pulled up to Gavin’s room. It would appear he was in the midst of watching the Game of Thrones since Ned Stark’s face is paused on the tv screen. He straighens the covers of his bed and forces Michael to sit. He presses play.

It’s as the next episode begins appearing on screen that Michael finds his voice. “Linds and me… we’ve decided to take a break… for a while.”

Gavin’s hand settles down on his knee, which he finds comforting and natural. He looks up at the face of his good friend who is neither pitying or indifferent. He just looks… warm. And there. Nice and familiar.

And it might be because it is a hidden desire he’s had for a while, or it might just be the alcohol and fresh burn of his breakup. But he still does it. Be still clumsily leans over to kiss Gavin, his friend, chum, mate, coworker… He also completely misses and ends up at the corner of his lips.

But Gavin complies and tilts his head to the left just a little. And then he has full lips meeting his own. It is all brand new. The sensation of Gavins nose bumping awkwardly with his own as he moves go claim more. The stubble rubbing against his own smooth cheek. The smooth scalp he encounters as he reaches to stroke long hair. Teeth that nip and scrap his own, dominating him. And most of all, the deep, flithy moan Gavin makes.

It is all new. But at the same time that makes everything better. Gavin is everything that is new. There is nothing there to link with his…

But it doesn’t last. Not when Gavin pulls away and gentlg holds him back when he goes to follow.

“What?” he groans, impatient to get back to it.

Gavin is having none of it. “It’s not a good idea,” he says even and annoyingly calm.

Michael scoffs, “what? Don’t tell you didn’t like it after that noise.”

Gavin bites his lip, sheepish, “no… it’s just… you’re drunk and on the rebound. I don’t want to just be a rebound fuck.”

And Michael wishes be could find the words to protest. To say this wasn’t a rebound fuck. But he couldn’t. “Oh,” he says instead.

Gavin looks just as pleases as he feels at winning the argument. “Get some sleep, Michael.”

He nods. He watches as Gavin stands with a pillow, reaching to stop him as he edges for the door. “Wait, where are you going?”

“To sleep on the couch?”

His stomach twists. “No. Sleep here,” he pats the empty space beside him. In all honesty he didn’t want to be alone. That’s why he came here.

Gavin bites his lip, the same one Michael had just been sucking on. “I don’t think that is a good idea.”

He pats the space again, until Gavin sighs and slides in beside him. He sighs as the empty space is filled. Maybe the space inside isn’t, yet. But right now he feels it is alright. And maybe soon Gavin will take up that place as well.

But right now he is infinitely thankful it is Gavin he came to. It is his hand he holds under the covers. His friendship and respect he still maintains. He is thankful Gavin didn’t let him screw that up.

He never did with the important things.


	8. Mortal Strip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael and Gavin play strip poker, or rather, strip Mortal Kombat.

This was a stupid fucking idea. And if Michael were sober he would of said it, hell, he probably did say it. However, he was pretty pissed and it he couldn’t find it in himself to protest. 

Really, there was plenty of reasons why this wasn’t a good idea. Why this wasn’t socially acceptable for two dudes, two good friends, to engage in a game of this nature. To play a game, which was essentially strip poker without the poker and Mortal Kombat, well, it was dumb. Strip poker was to get chicks out of their clothes and down to their bras until they either chickened our or what, strip poker was about boobs. Shameful to say, but it was true, and that was the reason the game was invented, he was sure.

Michael and Gavin, as it were, didn’t have boobies. They were two boring, fucking, dongs, and really there was no reason to engage in a game of this sort. Except for the fact that they were wasted and bored. A bad concoction if there were any, especially where Gavin Free were involved.

It started with a few shoves on the couch, where there was nothing interesting on Netflix, and they’ve already caught up on the Game of Thrones. So, Gavin dumbly suggested strip poker! But instead they’d play Mortal Kombat and who ever lost would lose their clothing slowly. Essentially, whomever was butt-ass naked at the end would get a picture taken and would be embarrassed as the loser.

Yeah, good idea.

To his credit, Michael did protest. But Gavin just gave him that look, the one that spoke centuries of torment and teasing if he let this go. If he cowered out.

So, that is how two dongs ended up playing a game created to credit boobs. Fuck.

—-

"OH MY FUCKING GODDD GOOOOO!" Michael slammed on his buttons as Gavin giggled deviously at his side, mercilessly pulverizing him in the glitching corner. “WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT, BULLSHIT!" Because his character is stuck in the fucking shitty, flash side while Gavin just kicks him again and again.

"That’s your other sock, Michael," Gavin offers lightly, looking disgustingly gleeful at the flashing letters signifying his victory. Asshole.

"Ohhh, that’s a sock, Michael," he mocks, kicking off the offending article of clothing, before straightening out. “Okay, now, it is on."

—-

A few beers later, and a shirt or two, the pair is down to their underwear. After an intense battle, one in which Gavin fucking cheated, Michael lost his jeans leaving them squared. This was it, the final battle that would determine the winner. And the loser.

And Michael had it in the pocket, he had Gavin down to a quarter of half. The idiot beside him cried out, trying this best to appease Michael into mercy. It wasn’t happening, he slammed on the buttons, looking as the bar went down to his credit…

That was when Gavin let out a dying screech, one that could only be defined as… A Gavin noise. His leg wiping out to knock the console over, and in doing so, turning the game off. He, at least, has the decency to look sheepish. 

"GAVIN! WHAT THE FUCK!"

To which Gavin, thankfully, scoots down to hook the game back up… But it brings it back to the main menu, to which he picks the controller back up.

"No, absolutely not, we are not playing another round… You clearly lost."

Gavin looks innocently, as innocently as the prick can, blinking bashfully, “you don’t know that, I could have made a come back…"

"COME BACK? YOU WERE SECONDS, SECONDS FROM YOUR DEATH BED!"

Blink. “But we don’t know that, Michael. Not for sure."

He planned this, the fucking prick, he planned it. Michael glared daggers, “bullshit, come on, off with them," and before he could think of what he was doing he launched his assault.

For Gavin’s underwear.

Now, sober this is just a bad idea all around. Tousling around half nude with another dude, yeah, no.

But that is how it happened.

That is how Geoff found him when he wandered out for a late night snack. That is how he shook his head, and mutters something about fucking nightmares and being scarred. 

That was how they scrambled to get dressed. How Gavin’s ideas were deemed the worst.

And the next day he woke up with a fierce headache. Which only got worse, when he looked down to discover he was wearing two different colored socks.

**Author's Note:**

> So, basically this is a series of different prompts that I completed in oneshots. After some debate, I decided to continue to post them into one work instead of, like, a million separate ones. Some will be 1,000+ and others shorter. Anyway, enjoy. <3


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